It was whim that made him stop by the weapons shop the mercenaries favoured.Three horses tethered out front were known to him; one was Niko's stallion, abig black with points like rust and a jughead on thickening neck perpetuallysweatbanded with sheepskin to keep its jowls modest. The horse, as mean as itwas ugly, snorted a challenge to Tempus's Tros - the black resented that theTros had climbed Niko's mare.
He tethered it at the far end of the line and went inside, among the crossbows,the flying wings, the steel and wooden quarrels and the swords.
Only a woman sat behind the counter, pulchritudinous and vain, her neck hungwith a wealth of baubles, her flesh perfumed. She knew him, and in seconds hisnose detected acrid, nervous sweat and the defensive musk a woman can exude.
'Marc's out with the boys in back, sighting-in the high-torque bows. Shall I gethim. Lord Marshal? Or may I help you? What's here's yours, my lord, on trial oras our gift -' Her arm spread wide, bangles tinkling, indicating the rackedweapons.
'I'll take a look out back. Madam; don't disturb yourself.'
She settled back, not calm, but bidden to remain and obedient.
In the ochre-walled yard ten men were gathered behind the log fence that markedthe range; a hundred yards away three oxhides had been fastened to theencircling wall, targets painted red upon them; between the hides, threecuirasses of four-ply hardened leather armoured with bronze plates were proppedand filled with straw.
The smith was down on his knees, a crossbow fixed in a vice with its ownerhovering close by. The smith hammered the sights twice more, put down his file,grunted and said, 'You try it, Straton; it should shoot true. I got a hand